Soldiers and Sailors
by B-Rated
Summary: Making a warrior takes eighteen years, fixing one can hopefully take less than that. Soldiers and Sailors is a hospital dedicated to healing the wounded and scarred military men and women just to ship them back out. This is where Jean meets Roy. AU
1. Chance Encounters

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter one- Chance Encounters

The military had hospitals and offices for unfit soldiers. The ones that went the extra mile and saw the true terrors of war. They wanted these fighters fixed up and sent out again. Making a warrior takes eighteen years, fixing one takes less than that.

"I'm sorry," the receptionist said placing the palm of her hand over the receiver of the phone, and turning in her chair to face the patient, "he's running late today. You'll have to take a seat."

The man in uniform nodded and walked past the desk to the chairs lining the walls. He sat down across from the body in a chair that did not belong to the office. A chair with wheels, handle bars, and a medal pinned into the back.

The room was quiet under the rings of phones and the voice of the receptionist.

He removed his hat and placed it in his lap, "admirable, taking a bullet for someone." He nodded towards the other man's leg, "I assume that's how you earned it."

"Shove a guy toward the ground, get shot in the leg and suddenly you're a hero," he shared.

They were quiet a moment without anything to say. It was the blond that asked the next question, "what's with the uniform?"

"I'm a marine," he stated.

"I see that," he smiled.

The door opened and the doctor stepped out, "okay, Jean-"

"I'm coming," he cut in and reached for the break on his chair before turning the wheels and disappearing behind the door.

He parked beside the chair in front of the desk and folded his hands in his lap with his elbows on the arm rest.

The gray haired man sat behind his large dark oak desk in an overstuffed leather chair with a folder opened in front of him and pen in hand. He wrote his patient's name and date at the top of the fresh paper and waited.

"I sometimes think they're feeding me bull by telling me I'll walk again," Jean shared looking out the window.

"Why's that?"

"They way they say it," he shrugged, "I miss smoking honestly. I can't have a cigarette in my hospital room and I can't make it outside without a nurse saying I'm straining myself."

"Let's go back to walking. Do you think you'll walk again?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I do. I want to be able to go up stairs again. Then I can go home. I miss my apartment and I'm pretty sure there's milk in the fridge that's gone bad by now," he said humorously then looked towards the therapist to see him writing with a serious face.

He sighed and kept talking to fill the air. It was why he was here, "I hate that people pity me. I'm crippled not retarded. I can hold my own cup for god's sakes. I also hate that people think I'm depressed all the time. Since when can a guy in a wheelchair not crack a joke?" Again he looked at the man to find the same thing so he kept going. "My physical therapy's getting me jacked." He flexed the muscle in his arm, "even in combat I didn't carry such guns." Nothing, not even a smile.

With a sigh Jean rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "I'm lonely too. But I can't really go clubbing in this thing, huh?" He patted his chair for emphasis. "I'm sure I could pick up one of the murses but the thing is they're straight. Who the hell would of guessed right?" An eyebrow rose but nothing was said.

"The marine in the waiting room was pretty cute. I feel like I've seen him before though… Hopefully I wasn't drunk. I wouldn't mind hitting that again," he laughed.

The older man's throat cleared, "okay, Jean, let's try talking about something else. Have your parents visited?"

"Eh, a couple times. Mom can be annoying though. Fluff my perfectly fine pillows and act like every nurse on the floor is supposed to only tend to me, she also tries to set me up with them," he rolled his eyes, "depending on the mood I'm in I'll humor her. They all know though, the nurses I mean. You know when you're fighting you can't even hint at it. Don't ask, don't tell, ya know? Here though the military doesn't care. It's like they only care if you've got a gun in your hand."

"What does your father think of all this?"

It took a second to realize he meant the hospitalization, not what he had been talking about. He had stopped listening awhile ago. "Dad's quiet about it honestly. He just sits there and stares at me."

The man looked up at the clock and put the cap on his pen, "I'm sorry, Jean, it looks like we've run out of time."

"Alright, see you next week," he took off the brake and rolled towards the door.

"Here, let me get that for you," the doctor stood up.

"No, I can get it," Jean stopped and reached for the handle. He managed to open it and get halfway through before it started closing on him.

The marine got up and held it open for him. He smiled, "I'm sure you could've gotten it on your own. I'm just anxious for my turn with the shrink."

Jean grinned and continued to roll away, "maybe I'll see you around, marine."

The brunet shook his head and stepped into the office. He sat down in the equally over stuffed chair and waited for the doctor to change folders.

"Any new developments, Roy?"

He sighed, the heavy feeling settling in his heart, "no, she's not doing any better."

"I meant in your life," he clarified.

He turned toward the window, his knuckle against his lower lip and chin on his thumb.

"Roy?" The doctor urged but still the man was silent. "Any more nightmares?"

"Not nightmares, nightmare," he corrected, "and it's not a nightmare it's reality."

"Are you keeping up with your medication?"

"No," he stated.

"Why not?"

"They make me feel like I'm not living. I'm detached from the world and made to watch people being happy."

"You need to take your medication."

The plastic cup was handed to him. Jean downed it like it was the finest of tequila and smiled up at the nurse, "no water needed."

She took the cup back and threw it in the trash before fixing his blankets around him. "As soon as it kicks in someone will be here to whisk you away to the weight room."

"Alright, pull ups today," he smiled.

"Don't be excited we're only building up arm muscles for the walking bars," she reminded.

He sighed, "yeah."

She turned on the TV and handed him the remote.

Jean relaxed in his bed with his arm tucked behind his head and watching the television blink at him as he pressed the button.

Roy blinked at the wall behind the therapist's head. Not a single word was exchanged. The gray haired man looked at the clock, wrote something on his paper and welcomed Roy to the exit.

The marine put his cap back on when he left the office and took the trip from one building to the next.

Jean lifted himself into his wheelchair, despite the nurse trying to assist him. He did however let her push him to where he needed to be.

They wasted no time in placing the heart monitors and breathing aid before two orderlies lifted him to hang from the bar.

"Okay, Jean, start slow," his physical therapist advised before pressing a button on one of the machines.

He forced his legs out straight, trying hard to ignore the shooting pain in his knee. A scowl etched on his face and he managed to pull his chin to the bar.

"One," the doctor counted.

With shaking arms he lowered himself and then repeated until his brow was beaded with sweat and muscles about to give up.

"Thirty," she pressed another button on the machine, "are you ready to stop, Jean?"

He nodded quickly and the orderlies put him back in his chair.

He pulled off the stupid mask they insist he wear to get fresh air. He was panting and struggling to swallow.

The weight room had a large window facing the nurse's station. If a patient had hurt themselves, or more help was needed, all it would take was a glance and the aid would come running.

It was through this window that Jean caught a glance of that cute marine from the therapist's office. The question to why he was in the hospital was a distant second to the thought I hope he's watching. He looked at the orderlies, smiling, "put me back up there."


	2. Motivation

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter two- Motivation

Jeans chair was lead right up to the tortures bars. "Okay, whenever you're ready. We're doing three turns today," the doctor instructed.

He shifted forward in his chair and reached for the cold metal. With a pained expression he pulled himself up and put all his weight on his hands and good leg wile the other protested every move.

"You have to put weight on it, Jean," she wrote something in her notebook.

He shook his head with a rough breath, "I know. Shit, getting a bullet logged in your knee is not at all enjoyable."

She chuckled and shook her head, "no it is not. Ready to start walking?"

He took a deep breath and inched forward, "this isn't getting any easier."

"It won't for awhile," she took a look at the heart monitor and then wrote something else in her notebook.

Jean looked up at the window in front of him.

The brunet walked by everyday at the same time. Some days he would stop and talk to the nurses, some days he'd glance Jean's way, but mostly he seemed pretty adamant about getting from point A to point B.

The days he'd look at Jean though, he'd smile.

That's how he knew him. He had never taken notice to him before the time in the waiting room.

Today he had flowers.

Roy walked around the end of the plastic footboard and to the empty desk that could be wheeled over to feed the patient. He removed the vase of nearly wilted flowers and replaced them with the new ones before taking the seat beside the bed.

The brunet looked up at the face of the sleeping. A breathing tube disappearing into the lax mouth. Her blond hair was shaved and skin pale, it was hard to believe she was the same person. His hand reached for hers and the only sound of the room, and what felt like the world, was the rhythmic beep of the machines.

Roy sighed and looked through the blinds to see the hospital garden below.

"Can I smoke?" Jean whined as the nurse continued pushing him along the paved path.

She sighed, "I suppose."

He reached into the pack on the side of his chair for his carton of cigarettes.

"How was therapy today?" She leaned forward over the back of the chair to make eye contact.

"Torture, as usual. Shit, I have no lighter," he groaned.

"You should watch that potty mouth, solider," she advised.

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted.

She turned his chair and side stepped it to put him beside a bench. "How long are you going to stay out today?"

"Well, I haven't got a light so not long," he looked up at her with a smile.

"Alright, I'll be back in ten, sound good?"

"Yeah," he nodded and she left.

Jean sighed looking down at his cigarette. "Finally a chance for a smoke and no light," he reached for the bag to put it back in the carton, "my luck."

He let his head roll back and rest on the chair between the handle bars. "What the hell'd I ever do to you?"

"A spiritual moment, solider?"

His head jerked up, "Breda?" His eyes went wide for this was in fact the man before him, "Breda!" Would his leg of allowed it he would of jumped up and hugged him. He had spent so long in isolation, with only the company of hospital aid, and here in the flesh was a friend. "When'd you get released? How long have you been home? How are the guys?"

He sat down on the bench beside the blond, "fine, fine, the guys are fine. I'm actually on my way back out. I've been home for a couple months, Jean. I just now had the courage to see you."

"Courage? Why ya need courage to see me?"

"You saved my life, Jean," he said humbly.

"I did not," he retorted.

"You pulled me from a burning HUM-V with a bullet in your knee," Heymans argued, "I owe you, man."

"Got a light?"

"Yeah," he dug into his pocket to hand it over.

"We're even," Jean stated while lighting up and taking a healthy drag. "God, I've missed you sweet, cancer educing cigarette."

Heymans shook his head, "you're something else. So when you bustin outta here?"

"As soon as I can walk with a cane," he shared. "I can't wait."

"Yeah, I'd be anxious to get home too."

"Home…" he sighed, "I know it's a shabby one room apartment with a great view of a brick wall but I miss it."

Roy yawned and tossed his keys onto the counter. He ran his fingers through his hair after his hat joined them. He walked into his bedroom and sat down after picking up the bottle of medication on his nightstand. He turned it over in his hands, reading the label again and again.

Gingerly he set it back on the nightstand and then kicked off his boots to lay out on his bed.

He stared up at the ceiling. The only light was streaming in between the blinds from the street light outside.

Roy groaned and rolled over.

Jean sighed and put his hands above his head.

It got lonely at night. The hospital was quiet. There was no nurses to talk to. The patients were supposed to be asleep.

Roy sat up hard, his chest heaving and face beaded with sweat. He cursed and turned on the lap beside his bed. He pushed the covers away and swung his legs over the side of the mattress. He again picked up the medication bottle.

Pressing down and twisting undid the childproof cap. He tapped the orange plastic against the palm of his hand until pills spilled out. One tucked between his thumb and pointer finger while the rest were ushered back into the bottle.

He stared at it a long time before popping it into his mouth and swallowing dry. With a heavy sigh he laid back down and closed his eyes, waiting for it to kick in.


	3. Novocain

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter three- Novocain

"Come on, Jean, one more step," the physical therapist encouraged.

He swallowed hard and cringed at the jolt of pain surging up his sciatic nerve. "Fuck," he seethed up at the ceiling.

"I know it hurts. I'll have the nurses up your pain medication tonight," she bargained.

He hissed and laid his foot flat on the mat between the bars.

A nurse weaved her way through the room to talk to the doctor. The two shared a hushed conversation and then Jean's monitor was shut off. "I'm sorry, Jean, I'm needed elsewhere," she closed his folder.

"It's okay," he said through clenched teeth. The nurse rolled his wheelchair up to him and he gratefully collapsed.

"You're making great progress," the doctor reassured, "eighteen turns today."

With a groan he adjusted his leg so it laid on the support. He let his head fall back on the lip of the chair and waited for the surging pain to stop.

He didn't even realize he was being wheeled away.

He hadn't seen the marine today. He hadn't seen him for about three weeks now. Jean quickly learned the longer he spent in the therapy the greater chance he saw the marine in the office, the longer he stayed in physical therapy the greater chance he saw the marine walk by, the longer he stayed outside the better the chance of seeing him leave the hospital. All these sightings and no balls to talk to him.

Was it sad to say seeing him was the highlight of everyday?

Now though he had gone without seeing him and there was no way of knowing what happened to him. Had he been declared well enough to go back to fighting? It's not like it wasn't an obscene idea, it was why they were here.

"Okay, Jean, how long do you want to stay out today?" The nurse asked, wheeling him to his spot in the garden.

He just shrugged. What was the point of staying out here for fresh air if he was just going to smoke? Oh right, to be gawked at by everyone that walked by.

With a long sigh he released the smoke from his lungs through his nose before looking up at the sky.

He finished off his pack of smokes and the nurse came back to wheel him to his room.

This was his new routine. Trying to bend the system to get a glance of some cute guy he didn't even know. How pathetic that must sound.

Jean groaned and shut off the TV. He looked up at the paneled ceiling from his uncomfortable hospital bed and waited, to the tune of a humming machine that was filling him with Novocain. In ten minutes the world will be a blur and nothing will matter or be important.

The sharp knife-like pain will dull, the Earth will stop turning, and Jean Havoc will fall into a dreamless sleep like every night following his convoy being ambushed in a world of war.

Guns crack, explosives boom, voices shout, the sky rains down earth, blood, and shells. A bullet soars so close to his ear he can hear it. She yells at him to get down. She runs through fire to get him to come back into the building, the makeshift refuge of a once family home, now being blown to bits by bullets.

But there's people, innocent people cowering, caught in the middle, unsure where to go. He has to get them. She grabs his arm pulls him toward safety, scolding him for seeing things that aren't there.

Then in a blink of an eye she stops, blood spays onto the walls, onto his face, and she falls.

Roy sat up in bed gasping for breath. He pushed his fingers through his hair and turned on the lamp. He moved to the edge of the bed and reached for his medication. He took off the cap and put a pill in his hand.

He stared a long moment at the white pill in the palm of his hand. In an enraged fit he through the bottle at the wall. Little white tablets scattered across the floor. Roy place his face in his hands and broke into tears.


	4. The Edge of the World

I'm sorry this chapter's so short but I thought the ending was perfect. I also just really wanted to start writing for this again. I missed it.

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter four- The Edge of the World

Jean gripped the railing, cringing as he looked up at the remaining steps. His knee ached with just the thought of every stair.

With a deep breath his hand curled tighter and he forced his leg up onto the next stair. He continued to limp to the top of the stairwell.

Wedged between the gray metal door and frame was a cinderblock. He braced on his cane and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the hospital roof.

The hinges squealed drawing the attention of the body staring down at the street below.

Jean's knee throbbed with pain but he smiled.

The stranger put his elbows on the low wall, leaning forward.

Jean hobbled over to stand next to him.

Silence settled over them.

He didn't know what to say. Finally a chance to talk to the man he had always trying to catch a glimpse of and there was nothing to say.

With a sigh Jean dug out a cigarette. He held out the carton towards the brunette, he accepted one.

"You weren't planning on jumping were you?" Jean asked.

Roy looked over at him then shook his head, "came up here for some solitude."

Jean breathed out a cloud of smoke, "don't do it. I'll miss you." He dropped his cigarette and started for the door to leave.

"Miss me?" Roy turned towards him.

Jean sighed again and limped to one of the metal chairs, hissing and straightening his bad leg as he sat. "I look forward to seeing you."

"Why?" He leaned back against the wall.

"It's like you're the one part of my routine that the hospital doesn't control. For whatever reason you keep coming here, could you keep doing it?"

Roy shook his head sadly this time, looking down at his feet, "she died."

"A friend?" Jean asked.

"My lieutenant," he turned to look back out over the city.

And the pieces started to fall into place.

"It happed in combat didn't it? The injury that killed her, and you saw it," he sighed.

Roy took another drag off the cigarette.

"PTSD," Jean said quietly, more to himself. "I'm really sorry."

"What do you do when your soupier officer's seeing ghosts in the middle of a fire fight?" He posed the question so it wouldn't be answered. "She shouldn't of saved me," Roy shared.

"If it's worth anything I'm glad she did."

"You don't know me," he shot over his shoulder.

Jean forced himself onto his feet, abandoning his cane despite his body's every protest. "We're soldiers. We've been sent to the edge of the world, into the face of death, stripped of everything human and compassionate. There's no coming back from that. We all lose a piece of ourselves there. Yet here we are, on a hospital roof, watching the sun set over a city that once seemed like home." He put his weight on the wall, "you're right though, I don't know you. All I know is when I see you I feel a fraction of a bit better."

Roy sighed and closed his eyes for a long moment, "I guess I'll just have to keep coming back here then." A ghost of a smile graced his lips before he took another breath full of nicotine.

Jean smiled in response.

Unspoken words hung in the air between them. _Thank you._


	5. Healing

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter five- Healing

"His name is Roy," Jean told the man behind the oak desk. He wasn't just smiling, he was beaming.

Even as he walked the tortures treadmill, pain coursing through his leg, all he would have to do was look to that glass window and see a supportive face.

"Roy?" He asked writing in Jean's folder.

"He's a patient of yours," he stated.

Sitting in the gardens was a lot better with company.

"I know," he confirmed.

After his third surgery, when everything started all over again, Roy pushed his chair.

"The bullet's still in his knee," Roy told the window.

The psychiatrist hummed.

"They can't get to it but keep trying new methods anyway," he went on, "making the whole possess start over again each time."

"Does that bother you?"

"It bothers me that he can't go home. No one understands, that in a hospital isn't home. It's in limbo," he looked back at the man behind the desk.

"How does he feel about it?"

"Mom, stop," Jean insisted.

"I'm sorry, honey, but you really should send thank you cards," she was collecting the Get Well Soon's on the table by the door.

"They're from the same people who sent them last time, their sick of thank you cards," he stated.

"I'm going to go down to the nurses' station to get some good coffee, not this cafeteria crap," his father told them as he stood and left the room.

"Tell that one to come back here. The pretty one," his mother instructed.

"Mom, Stacy's married," Jean groaned leaning back against his pillows.

Whatever she was about to say she didn't get to.

"Hey," the marine knocked on the open door frame.

A smile spread across Jean's face, "hey."

The woman stood in the middle of the room. Her eyes looking between her son and the stranger, "who's your friend, Jeanie?"

"Mom, this is Roy. Roy, this is my mom," he introduced.

They shook hands, murmuring hellos. "Did you serve together?" She asked.

Her son rolled his eyes, "I was in the army, he's a marine."

"What's the difference?" She went back to checking flowers.

"I'm a solider, he's a sailor," he looked at Roy, begging for a topic change.

"A friend of mine was in the hospital here," Roy explained. He moved a chair to sit at the end of Jean's bed.

"She wasn't there," Jean's father came back in the room.

The blond groaned and put a hand on his forehead like he was getting a headache.

"That's too bad," she frowned, "Jeanie, you really should try to be friendlier to those women."

"Sure," he sighed.

The brunette sitting at the end of his bed snorted quietly, smiling slightly.

"I won't be around to keep setting dates up for you forever, dear," she went on.

"I know," Jean humored her, albeit tiredly.

His father sipped his coffee silently, eyes to the television on a shelf sitting in the corner of the room.

"How's your medication? You're not in any pain are you, dear?" She looked at the machine as though she could read it, "you look like you're in pain."

"I'm fine, Mom," he grumbled.

"You look tired. Are you tired? They did say it was an effect of the pain medicine, didn't they?" She crossed to pick up her coat off the hook on the back of the bathroom door. "You're father and I'll let you rest." She slid on her coat and then leaned down to kiss her son's cheek, "get some sleep."

"Thanks," he sighed and watched them leave. As soon as they were around the corner he released a loud, drawn out groan, "thank God!"

Roy laughed and moved to the chair by the bedside, "she seems…"

"Nuts?" Jean suggested.

"I was going to say anxious," he stated.

"She drives me crazy," he sat up again.

"Hopefully never as crazy as I am," Roy joked, patting Jean's good leg with what was meant to be a comforting motion.

His touch lingered a little too long though, the air changed.

"Have you been taking your medication?" Jean asked to put attention elsewhere.

"Religiously," Roy stood and put his jacket on the hook that had previously been occupied. "They give you your dose at noon?"

Jean nodded, "can you tell?"

"Yeah," he sat back down and reached for the news paper on the movable table, "you'll be out in an hour."

"Less than," Jean leaned into his pillows, closing his eyes. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Roy sat back turning pages, "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Roy?" He asked groggily.

"Yeah?"

There was no answer.

Roy looked up to see his company had already fallen asleep. He shook his head and opened the drawer for a pen to fill out the crossword.


	6. Going Home

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter six- Going Home

"What time is it?" Jean asked, adjusting his bed and pushing himself up to sit against his pillows.

"A little past five," Roy leaned forward in his chair, "if you want dinner I can go tell them."

"I'm good," he yawned.

Roy looked up at the TV. He reached for the remote.

Jean continued drifting closer and closer to consciousness the words became clearer.

"…today marked an end… man hunt… terrorist…"

Jean blinked at the screen to make the image focus. A woman sat in front of a desk, news no one cares about scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

"I led the platoon that captured the man that sold him out. I did the interrogations," Roy said, staring up at the TV.

There was something missing in his eyes. Like he was off in some sort of day dream.

Jean leaned forward to touch the man's hand and draw him back, "you did what you had to. You saved lives."

Roy came back to the hospital room. He looked at the blond, meeting his eyes for a long moment. Then he turned off the TV and leaned back in his chair. "They're wrong, ya know. The worst thing you can take from a man isn't his life. It's his sanity."

"You can't apologize for following orders," Jean pointed.

Roy sighed, "you can't tell me you're okay with being responsible for men dying."

"It's war, Roy, no one said it'd be pretty," the blond stated.

Silence enveloped them.

Then the brunette looked down, as though he just realized there was a hand on his.

The corners of his lips twitched and he looked up at Jean with a smile. It faded away and he moved his hand to hold Jean's. "Do you believe in fate?"

"I guess," Jean was a little confused at the topic change.

"If it weren't for Riza's death I would of never met you," he said with a tone that was both light and serious. Like he had come to terms with it.

"If it weren't for my knee I'd never of met you," Jean smiled.

The brunette squeezed the hand in his. A happy smile graced his features. For maybe the first time it seemed the cold mask of a hurt man melted away completely.

Roy shifted onto his feet, leaning forward.

Jean felt it.

Their relationship becoming complicated.

Everything was teetering between friendship and something more.

They were on the brink of a smooth transition.

"Hello, Jean," the nurse's voice brought everything to a stand still.

Roy sank back into his chair.

"Did the doctor tell you the good news yet?" She hugged her clipboard.

"No," Jean regretted taking his eyes away from the brunette's.

"You can be discharged next week," she said cheerfully.

He gapped at her.

"You'll be going home," she rolled happily onto her toes and then back to her heels.

"Home…" he repeated.


	7. Dignity

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter seven- Dignity

Jean walked through the hospital lobby like a solider through an airport terminal. He was going home.

The only thing that could make this image more perfect would be a loyal little housewife waiting for him on the porch of a house in front of a large tree with a yellow ribbon tied around the trunk, white picket fence and all.

Instead it was a tiny apartment and waiting for him outside the hospital doors was a marine.

Roy held out his hand to take the bag and lighten Jean's load, "how's it feel, finally going home?"

"To be honest," Jean laughed, "a little terrifying."

Roy smiled in an attempt to be sympathetic. Then he looked up, out to the drive up to the overhang, "when's the van picking you up?"

"They said it'd be here at seven," Jean supplied.

Roy paused before looking back at him, "it's seven thirty."

"Damnit," Jean cursed, "guess I'll just wait for the next one."

The brunette looked towards the parking lot then shook his head, "no. You've waited long enough. I'll give you a ride."

The air was thick with a heavy awkwardness. It had been like this between them since the moment a week ago.

"You don't have to really-" Jean started.

"I want to," Roy objected.

"Okay," Jean nodded in agreement.

"I'll bring the car around," Roy turned towards the parking lot.

"No, I'll walk," Jean followed him.

"You're stubborn," Roy chuckled shaking his head.

"I prefer persistent," he smiled.

"More like prideful," Roy retorted.

"Blame the uniform," Jean shot back.

"Feels good doesn't it?" Roy pointed to a car and walked around to the driver's side while Jean waited at the passenger's.

"Like I've found the dignity this place took from me," Jean looked back at the building.

Roy ducked down into the vehicle to lean across and unlock Jean's door. With a little bit of a struggle the blond managed to get in.

"Taking a bullet for your country isn't shameful," Roy pointed.

"There's no pride in having someone help you take a piss, bullet or no bullet," Jean retorted.

Roy's lip curled with half a laugh, "so where we going, solider?"

"Know where the park is?" Jean stretched out his legs, his cane between them.

"Uptown or down?" Roy asked, starting the car.

"The one uptown," Jean stated.

Roy nodded as he pulled out of the parking lot, "nice neighborhood?"

"I guess," he shrugged. "God, it feels good to leave. Can't wait to go home and be able to smoke inside."

Roy laughed, "do I turn at this light or the next?"

"The next," Jean pointed, "and food! Real food! Whenever I want it."

"And company without visiting hours," Roy added.

The awkwardness was back.

"Yeah, Mom will love that," he sighed and turned towards the window trying to avoid it.

"Me too."

Roy was acting like it didn't exist. Like the kiss had actually happened and they were more, instead of stuck in between.

"Yeah?" Jean asked looking at him, "you'll stop by?"

"I owe it to her. She did introduce us," he smiled. "What building?"

So it was all for her. "Red brick on the right," Jean stated sadly. He understood. Roy had watched someone die for him, he had to put some reason behind it.

Roy pulled up to the curb in front of the building. He killed the engine and got out of the car. He got Jean's bag out of the back seat while the blond forced himself onto his feet.

Jean held out his hand for his bag, instead the brunette put it over his shoulder. "Um… keys…" Jean patted his pockets before finding them in one of them on his good leg. He hobbled up the front stoop and unlocked the door. Roy followed him.

With a heavy sigh Jean looked up at the daunting stair case, "why do I have to live in the building with no fucking elevator?"

"One step at a time," Roy reminded.

"Yeah…" one hand took the railing the other held tighter to his cane so he could start the momentous task.

It really wasn't that bad. It was painful sure. But therapy thought him how to live with it.

Then about halfway up it became too much. He had to stop. Jean was leaning on the railing, completely dependent on it, a deep scowl carved on his face.

Roy watched him and then looked up at the rest of the stairwell. "Here," he adjusted the bag and relived the cane from the blonde's clutch. He ducked down to take Jean's arm across his shoulders.

"No," Jean tried to protest for pride's sake.

"I want to," Roy argued, supporting the other man's weight so they could continue.

Jean looked at him, meeting his dark blue eyes, their breath mingling in their close proximity. Roy smiled, shifting and taking the next step.

Just like that the moment was gone.

Roy supported him up the rest of the steps and to the apartment door. Jean swayed on one foot to unlock the door. The brunette put his arm around his waist to help.

A spark surged down his spine. His breath gave it away.

The door opened and the two walked in together. Hurriedly Jean pointed to a chair at the table. Roy released his hold, leaning to guide him to sit down. His body leaning over Jean's, their faces close enough to share breathes.

Jean looked up, waiting for some kind of hope. Hope he wasn't imagining this.

Roy blinked and broke the gaze, starting to pull away.

Jean decided to risk it. He leaned up forcing his lips to Roy's.

The sound of his cane and bag crashing to the floor followed before hands were on his neck, thumbs tracing his jaw.

Jean took it in stride, forcing the kiss deeper.

Roy broke away, this time completely. He laughed, "easy, solider, the door's not even shut."

He stood straight and turned to close it.

Jean chuckled and grabbed the back of his chair, pushing himself up onto his good leg.

"Where you going?" Roy asked.

"Bedroom," Jean nodded his head towards the step up into an archway.

A smirk crawled onto the brunette's features. "Yeah? Need help?"

"I need company," Jean objected.

"Right. There's no dignity in help," Roy stepped forward taking Jean's hand to assist in the journey.

Jean took the last painful steps on his own before collapsing onto his bed, "and my own bed!"

"One you can have company in," he smirked and leaned over him for another kiss. It steadily got deeper. Jean's fingers weaved into the silky black hair.

Roy moaned softly against Jean's lips before a tongue invaded.

It had been so long.

Every touch sent a spark through his stomach.

Roy crawled onto the bed, straddling Jean's waist.

The kiss got harder.

Jean groaned deeply. They were barely touching, just kissing, and his body was running away with it.

It had been so long.

The brunette sat back on his knees, his breath coming out short and desperate, small mewls, uncontrollably spilling out. He pulled at Jean's white T-shirt.

The blond pushed himself up, dragging his hips across the bed for better balance so he could pull it off as Roy was untucking it from his camouflage pants.

He was in his lap now, Jean's eyes fell to Roy's hips as his hands moved to hold them. At first the touch was light before squeezing tightly.

Roy gasped and grinned before connecting them again.

Jean fell back onto the bed, shifting quickly, raising his knees and bucking his hips.

His back arched, he cried in pain, instantly regretting it. "Fuck!"

Roy climbed off the bed like it was on fire. Jean reached for his knee, "Fffffuck-k-k!"

"Where are your pain pills?" Roy asked in a rush.

"In my bag. Right side. Lower pocket," he instructed and Roy ran out of the room.

Pain was surging up his leg, through his body, killing all arousal.

Roy handed him the orange bottle. Jean swallowed two pills dry. Still making pained sounds.

The brunette sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," Jean sighed and threw himself against the pillows.

"Kind of is," Roy smiled weakly, leaning forward to connect them with much more innocent intentions. Only it quickly became less so.

It'd been _so _long.

Jean pushed himself up, leaning into the kiss. He dug his heals into the mattress to shift his balance only to find the move caused another sharp stab of pain. With a hiss he fell back again, "yeah, that's not gonna happen."

Roy sighed but not at all disappointedly.

Jean rubbed his knee one last time before laying back against the pillows again.

"Feeling drowsy?" Roy asked.

Jean hummed and nodded.

Roy walked to the bottom of the bed. He leaned down to untie and unlace his boots.

"You don't have to-" he started to argue.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I want to," Roy stated, dropping the shoes to the floor. He braced one hand on the bed to lean over the blond to work on his pants.

Jean weakly protested.

"You're not sleeping in your uniform," Roy stated. He walked back around the bed, "need help getting into bed?"

"We already tried that," Jean joked, rolling over anyway, accepting Roy's help under the covers.

"How many did you take?" Roy asked a little concerned.

"Two," Jean answered.

Roy picked up the bottle, read the directions, "you were only supposed to take one."

"It hurt really bad," Jean's words slurred.

Roy sighed, "these are powerful narcotics, Jean."

There was a hum of a response, "good."

Roy shook his head and moved to the other side of the bed, kicking off his own shoes.

"I'm checking out," Jean said humorously.

"I'll be here when you wake up," Roy promised climbing into the bed.

"Not how I imagined our first night together," Jean's voice was raw sounding, sleep was pulling him away.

"Me neither," Roy laughed lightly. He really had to say Jean had a nice taste in bedding. Dark blue, plush, silk, perfect for sleeping.

He shifted closer and put an arm around the other body. Jean's breathing was calm, relaxed, relax_ing_.

Jean moved his arm welcoming Roy into an embrace.

"It's been so long," Jean said airily. Thinking about the feeling of a warm body next to him, curled up with him.

Roy nodded, "two months before I was deployed."

"Four weeks before the plane took off," it was clear Jean was struggling to stay in the waking world.

"Remember his name?"

Jean laughed, "no."

"I probably could if I tried, but I don't want to," Roy chuckled.

Jean didn't respond.

Roy shifted to look at him, asleep. He smiled and laid back down, feeling himself drift away.


	8. Morning After

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter eight- Morning After

Jean pushed himself up with a groan, "find everything okay?"

"Yeah," Roy shouted back, "I'm surprised really, that you had food here. I did throw out the Chinese though." He laughed.

Jean reached for his cane that Roy had leaned against the wall for him.

"Yeah Mom restocked the place when she found out I was coming home," Jean limped stiffly to the archway. "And what do you mean you threw out the Chinese? I was making penicillin."

"I'm sure you'll have more in a week or so," Roy said, his back still to the blond while he stood at the stove. A vision in red plaid boxers.

Jean smiled, he could get used to this. "You make me wish my knees could bend," he whistled.

Roy turned around, eyebrow arched. He smiled ant turned back, "I'll take that as a compliment."

Jean opened his mouth to reply but the door opened. "Jeanie! You up, sweetie…" her voice trailed off.

"Um…" Jean looked at Roy.

"Well I came to make sure you got some breakfast but I guess it's handled," her smile was forced.

"Mom, you met Roy," Jean nodded, stepping down from the ledge.

"Oh, yes. Did you stay the night, dear? Jean, I told you you needed a roll away bed or something," she insisted.

"You know damn well where he slept and why," her husband snorted and sat himself down at the kitchen table.

Jean didn't deny it.

Roy pointedly focused on cooking.

"Well, I thought I'd give you a ride to your appointment," she walked towards the coffee maker.

"I can do it," Roy offered, "mine is right after."

"Oh, you see the therapist too?" Her voice wasn't as genuine.

"Yes," Roy pointedly turned away from her.

Jean sighed, "PTSD, Mom."

"What's that, dear?"

"Means I'm insane," Roy stated.

"No," Jean corrected, "means you've been through something traumatic."

Jean's father turned towards the brunette, "yeah?"

"Stop being nosey," Jean snapped at them.

"Take your pain pill yet?" Roy set a plate in front of him.

"No," Jean stated.

"Where is it? I'll get it," his mother put a mug of coffee on the table.

Roy was already walking back from the bedroom, "just one."

Jean rolled his eyes, "I told you I just took two because it hurt really bad. You try bending a knee with a bullet in it."

"Why weren't you using your cane," his mother reprimanded.

"We weren't walking, Mom…" Jean groaned.

Roy smirked and took a step closer to her son, "I'm going to go to my place. I'll be back."

Jean turned to address him, "you don't have-"

Roy cut him off, "I _want_ to."

Jean smiled and watched him walk back to the bedroom, his head tilting for the best angle. His father chuckled and shook his head.

"Jeanie, do you really think you should of let this man in your _home_," she started, "with your leg in the state it's in, you should really be more cautious of strangers taking advantage of you."

Jean ignored her and continued eating.

"Not only that but he _said _he's insane," she started cleaning up the kitchen, "what if he snaps and kills you?"

Jean hummed thinking about that beautiful ass that had been in his lap.

"I have your best interest at heart."

Roy stepped down from the bedroom. He crossed to Jean, he leaned over him, wasting no time he kissed him long and deep. He pulled away just enough to talk, "see you soon."

"Yeah," Jean agreed brainlessly and watched him leave again.

His mother stopped talking. Odd.


	9. Therapy

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter nine- Therapy

"Jean," the doctor held the door open. The blond limped into the office on his cane. "I hear you went home yesterday. How was it?"

"A disaster," he sighed sitting in the chair and adjusting his leg.

"Had your hopes too high?" The man asked.

"No, no," he put up his hand with a small laugh, "the apartment was perfect, everything I remember it as. Home sweet home."

"Then what's the matter?"

"Roy took me home," he started, sighed again, "we… Well… I can't walk and I can't do _that_."

"By that you mean sex," he corrected, "I'm your psychiatrist, Jean, suggesting that you can't talk about a common biological need means I'll have to assume it's due to some underlying psychological issue."

"Alright, alright," he rolled his eyes and put his elbow on the arm rest, his chin on his hand. "It was going good, really good, and then I bent my knee and had to stop. I took a pain pill and fell asleep."

"Did you talk about it?"

"Not really," Jean stated, "but I think he understands. It's not because I don't want to, because lord knows I want to, I just can't, which sucks the most." He sighed, "how am I supposed to move on and be normal again when I have this fucking bullet in my knee as a constant reminder of what I saw over there?"

"I've never heard you talk like this, Jean," he was taking notes, "do you want to talk about what you saw on the battle field?"

"No," he looked at the window.

"How are your parents?" He changed the topic, "has your being home made any difference there?"

"Not really," he looked back at the doctor, "well maybe she's become more overprotective but he's the same."

"Does your father's distance bother you?"

"No," he shook his head, "he's always been like that. Ever since they put two and two together."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Ever since they found out I'm gay," he replied.

"Ah, you think they don't approve?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, turning back to the window.

"Roy," the door opened

"He's extra talky today," Jean said in passing with a smile.

"Then I'll be a little late for your physical therapy," Roy returned.

"Hello, Roy," the doctor greeted as they took their seats.

Roy allowed a small smile with a greeting in return. It fell away with a sigh, "suppose he told you."

"You know I can't tell you what Jean did or didn't tell me," the doctor retorted.

"Right," Roy nodded in remembrance.

"So what happened?" He poised his pen.

"I don't know," he was staring at the desk in front of him. "I've been trying to take this slow. We're both really complicated right now but I drove him home and helped him up the stairs. Then he kissed me and I thought-"

"What, Roy?"

"Why not. We're both adults right," he shrugged.

"Are you asking me?" He replied.

"No," Roy laughed a little. "I mean do you think, we're mentally stable?"

"I can't speak for Jean," he reminded.

Roy sighed, "I know."

"Do you think you're mentally stable?"

"You know what, I actually think so," he smiled.

"You've been off your medication for weeks, any nightmares?" Was the next question.

"Off and on," Roy answered with a sigh, "not as bad as they were." His smile returned, "I didn't have any last night. It felt good, having someone next to me, waking up with an arm around me. I missed that."

"You've made real progress, Roy," he put the cap on his pen, "I believe our sessions are limited." They both stood. "You'll be back in action in no time, marine."

"Thank you," he shook the man's hand and left the office.

He followed the walkway to the other building. He walked to the elevator, no longer needing to look to the color coated signs for direction. He walked up the ramp to the glass window and turned into the room. He folded his coat over his arm and crossed to the blond cringing over the leg weights.

He smiled when Jean looked up at him.


	10. Complications

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter ten- Complications

Roy pulled off his jacket and put it on the hook by the door, "tired?"

"A little," Jean answered, he sank into a chair and rubbed his knee, "still stiff."

Roy smiled a little.

Jean looked up at him, "what?"

The brunette shook his head, "just a funny thought."

Jean leaned on his elbow, "funny how?"

"You really want to know?"

"Sure," he shrugged.

Roy looked back at the door, smirked, and stepped towards the blond. He leaned down, pressing his lips to Jean's, as they kissed he lowered onto his knees in front of him.

"Oh…" Jean breathed in realization.

"Yeah," Roy smiled up at him. His hands on Jean's knees moved up his thighs, "so what do you say?"

Jean recollected his jaw from the floor and forced out a sentence, "you don't have-"

"I _want_ to," he insisted.

"Nobody _wants_ to do that," Jean stated.

"It's been a really long time for me too, Jean," Roy corrected.

Jean laughed a little then shook his head. "I can't return the favor."

"Who said I wanted the favor returned?" Roy countered.

Jean smiled again and ran his fingers through Roy's dark hair, nodding his approval.

Roy shifted, leaning towards Jean's stomach while his hands slid up to push move his shirt. Jean stiffened, excitement coiling in his chest.

Roy chuckled, looking up at him. Eyes half lidded, the corners of his mouth upturned in a smile, a thick sigh escaping him. "I'm not even touching you."

"Shut up," Jean tugged his hair in retaliation, "it's been a really long time."

"Yeah," Roy agreed, "means I can tease you so easily." He blew softly against Jean's stomach.

The soldier's mussels rippled as he gasped. "Please don't." Roy smiled again before lightly touching his lips to Jean's skin. His hands drifted to Jean's belt, his tongue doing amazing things against his skin.

Jean's head fell back, mouth falling open. "Roy…" he breathed.

He felt a something move against his groin and looked down to see Roy kissing him through his pants while working to open them. God it was an erotic sight.

His head rolled to the side, eyes falling on the door. "Wait!"

"What?" Roy moved back.

Jean shook his head, he hadn't meant to sound so shocked. "The door. Lock the door."

"Ah." He sat back and stood up. "An interruption by your mother is the last thing we need."

"Exactly," Jean agreed. "Put the chain thingy in too. She has a key."

"Chain thingy?" Roy repeated, doing so then turning around. "I think you've suffering from not enough blood to your brain there, soldier." Roy's eyes wandered down to Jean's lap.

"I think you have the cure for that," Jean replied.

Roy licked his lips. "I certainly do." He walked back towards the blond. He lowered himself to his knees just as gracefully as he had done before.

Belt undone, button open, it was no time before Roy's teeth were pulling down the metal zipper. The sight alone was nearly enough to put this rendezvous to an abrupt end. Jean looked up at the ceiling again, focusing on his fingers in Roy's soft hair. There wasn't a lot of it. Cut short probably because of his service. Through Roy did seem the kind to find long hair annoying. It was enough to curl his fingers around, give soft tugs when he earned them.

Jean moaned when a slick tongue moved against him. His eyes drifted closed. Roy's warm mouth enveloped him. "Oh… Roy."

The brunette moved up, rolling his tongue against the sensitive organ, sucking not nearly as hard as Jean thought he ought to. Silently Jean was wishing to himself, _"please be a swallower. Please oh please."_

Roy's fingers curled around the length, his tongue worked against the head. Jean groaned and shivered in all kinds of anticipation. Even the chronic throbbing in his knee seemed to disappear. He moaned and whimpered, thanked the heavens and repeated Roy's name. It had been such a fucking long time since someone gave him this attention and it had felt like he was never going to get it again.

He thought he was dead the first hospital he woke up in. He thought he was dying when he found out he was alive. There had been so much pain, so much blood covering his leg. He could still remember on the off chance he let his mind wander down that lane.

He thought he was going to lose his leg right there on the battle field. It would just drop off as he tried to limp to safety. He thought they were going to amputate eight surgeries ago.

But here he was. A beautiful man between his legs, deep throating him to the point of surrender. "Shit, Roy!" His body trembled. "Roy- God! Roy, I'm close." He pulled his hair, hoping he wouldn't pull away.

Roy shifted up further on his knees, changing his angle of assault.

_"Oh thank God! He's a swallower!"_

Jean groaned and bucked his hips. Roy's hand reached for them though their presence wasn't at all forceful. They were just kind of there as a reminder. The one thrust had been enough though. Jean was panting, gasping for breath that kept hitching as Roy dragged out his orgasm.

Finally Jean's fingers slipped out of the black hair. Roy sat back on his knees. He looked up at the blond whipping his mouth and smiling at the look he received. "So, are you one of those guys that asks I wash my mouth out first or just kiss right after?"

Jean shook his head dumbly, his mind still lingering in a blissful universe without pain. "I don't really-" He swallowed, his throat was dry. Probably as much as Roy's was sore. "Care," he finished.

Hell if you could give a blow job like that then you were welcome to do anything, in Jean's opinion.

Roy smiled and braced his hands on the chair, pushing himself up until their lips touched. It was just a nice little sentiment. Jean didn't have any kinks about tasting himself or anything.

"Now, put that thing away before you mother really does show up," Roy said, standing back.

"I wasn't the one who got it out," Jean defended humorously, watching Roy walk away towards the bathroom. "Mouthwash is in the cupboard to the left of the mirror!"

"Thanks!" Roy shouted back.

Jean shifted in the chair, pulling boxers back up and closing his pants.

"You have a big tub," Roy stated coming back into the room.

"Thanks, I'm sure yours is impressive too," Jean winked.

Roy rolled his eyes. "No, I meant maybe we could figure something out with your knee. It's not like sex is impossible we just have to be creative."

Jean smiled. "So the therapist told you we should talk about this too, huh?"

Roy nodded and pulled a chair close to Jean. "I don't have a problem with talking about it unless you-"

Jean sighed. "My pride has been inflated enough today."

Roy chuckled a little. "Fellated you mean."

Jean laughed. "Alright yeah."

"So how do you feel?"

"Right now a little hungry and lightheaded," Jean replied.

Roy rolled his eyes again. "I meant about-"

"I know." Jean sighed. "I guess it sucks. I mean you have one fine ass that I would like to do more than fondle but I'm not really sure with current situation if I can manage it. I mean damn."

Roy drummed his fingers against the table. "Do you think-" He shook his head. "Yeah. My ass would like to be more than fondled."

Jean smiled and leaned over to kiss him again. "Guess our relationship will be dinner dates and blow jobs."

Roy was quiet for a few moments. "About that… I might be reinstated soon."

"What?"

"I've been off my medication for awhile and they think I've got this thing beat. I think the credit goes to you though."

"Have you talked to your superiors or-"

"No, not yet." Roy shook his head. "If I don't I'm sure the doctors will though."

"So…" This was a nice elephant in the room.

"Yeah…"

"I was just starting to really like you, marine."

Roy sighed. "I'm not going to tell you to wait for me or anything. My contract's up in June, so I won't be gone long. Just thought I'd let you know."

"Well thanks. Guess we could just enjoy this as long as you're here, right?"

"I'd like that."

"Now I really wish my knee could bend. I could spend the next weeks thoroughly fucking you brainless."

Roy laughed and stood up. "Your fellated pride is back."

"If you're going to make lunch-"

"Jeanie! You home?"

"It was only a matter of time." He sighed. "Yeah the door is locked, hold on!" He picked up his cane to limp to the door.

"It's okay, dear! I have a key!"

Jean took the chain out of its position in the door and turned the deadbolt. He opened the door to see his mother rummaging through her purse.

"You didn't have to get up on my account," she scolded.

Jean sighed and hobbled to one side to let her in.

"How's the Chinese food here?" Roy held up a menu that had been on the fridge.

"Pretty good. Don't order the curry," Jean answered closing the door. "No dad?"

"No. He sends his love though."

Jean highly doubted his father would say anything remotely close to that but didn't comment.

"Are you still here?" She asked Roy.

"Still? No. Back, yes," Roy replied smugly. He looked past her displeased features to her son. "I'd love to stay and really explore our options in those plans of yours but I think I should head home." He walked towards the door and Jean.

"You don't have to go," Jean argued.

Roy picked up his jacket. "Next time we'll order up some take out and get a drawing pad." Roy smirked and gave the blond a brief kiss. "Good night," he said to the room in general and walked out of the apartment.

The second he was gone Jean had to suffer through his mother over selling some nice girl she met at the market.

He wanted to scream at her to shut up and go bring Roy back but instead sat back down at the table and accepted the food she put in front of him.


	11. Getting to Know You

I feel like Jean is a little like this towards at the second part of this. http:/ /www. youtube. com /watch?v=6MBDecma8BM (Just take out the spaces.) And why the stupid transition? Because this was originally two different chapters. So don't dwell.

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter eleven- Getting to Know You

Roy laughed and picked up his chopsticks again. "Your turn."

"Alright…" He thought a second. "Dancing."

"Really?"

"Hate it." Jean shook his head. "Turn on?"

This game had started some time ago. "Boxer-briefs."

"I can see that," Jean said agreeably.

"Turn off: briefs."

Jean nodded and they both laughed. "Uhm… feet."

"Porn."

"Turn off?" Jean asked for clarification.

"One or two dirty magazines under the bed is one thing a whole collection of tapes is another."

"Can't say I've ever run into that problem."

"Turn on," Roy ordered.

"Candles."

"Kinky."

"No, no, not like that. Just you know, mood lighting," Jean corrected.

"Ah." Roy picked up the cartons and dishes.

"Turn on," Jean turned in his chair.

Roy put the dishes in the sink and leaned back on the counter. "You."

"Turn off."

"Your knee?" Roy said playfully.

Jean laughed. "Ditto."

"Turn on," Roy asked.

Jean looked at him a long second. Watching his hands brace the counter and body lean back in a gesture that seemed purely inviting. "This marine I've been seeing."

Roy smiled. "Turn off."

Jean's happy mood crashed and burned. "Not being able to do anything about it."

Roy sighed forlornly and nodded. He walked back to his chair at the table. "Ditto."

They sat there a few seconds. Jean put his hand on Roy's. It was just nice to have contact with someone again. It was the small things like this he missed.

"Maybe we can lay on our sides. Like spooning but I'll keep my leg straight-ish, it feels better when it's at an angle.

Roy paused a moment but it was more likely to let him down gently. "Too shallow."

"Yeah," Jean agreed.

"We can prop your leg up on the side of the tub," Roy offered.

"Too high," Jean stated.

"Wheelchair?"

"Wrong angle."

Roy looked at the wall with a soft hum. "Recliner."

"Now that might work," Jean said. He gestured to his apartment. "I don't have one though."

"Me either," Roy sighed.

Jean looked at their hands. His thumb made lazy circles on Roy's skin just to keep feeling it. "Hey, it's not about sex right. I like just hanging out with you." Even as the words left his mouth he knew how lame they were.

Roy offered a small smile. "Yeah."

The air was ominous though. Roy was only in town for a few more weeks. Losing a friend was a lot harder than losing someone you're just sleeping with.

"I was just hoping to get a little action before going back into action," Roy said with a smile.

Jean laughed weakly and leaned forward to catch Roy's lips. A few soft kisses passed between them. "Maybe I can take a pain pill and we can make it quick. Or hell, you can keep going once I'm knocked out."

Roy laughed and shook his head. His hand graced Jean's neck, his thumb moving against his jaw just as Jean's had been on his hand, just to touch and keep touching.

Roy leaned forward putting his forehead on Jean's.

What a sad and pathetic pair they must make, Jean thought. Like a paraplegic and his poor wife.

"Maybe I can-"

"Brainstorming time is over, Jean," Roy objected. He tilted his head and kissed him again. Deeper this time. His hand kneading the back of the blond's neck. Their tongues brushed, played.

"What would you do?" Roy asked between exchanges.

"What?" Jean asked back before being caught up in another kiss.

"What would you do?" Roy repeated. A few smaller kisses. "If you could."

"You mean like-" Jean's lips drifted towards Roy's neck.

"Yeah. Just because you can't do it doesn't mean I can't think about you doing it later."

Jean chuckled. "Who said you need to wait until later. I have a working hand."

"Well then, we're going to have to find a more comfortable arrangement," Roy stated.

Jean pulled the other man's chair closer. "Better?"

"I meant your bed."

"I don't know how to manage this horizontally and I don't want to waste time thinking it out," Jean argued.

Roy released a breathy laugh as Jean continued to softly nip at his neck. Jean's hand rested on Roy's knee, moving up his thigh. Roy's gasp was accompanied by some beautiful sound. "Shit, you're vocal too."

"Sorry," Roy forced out.

"Don't be." Jean smiled, nuzzled his collar, and bit a little harder. His hand reached its destination and started playing with the other man through his pants.

They were treading very dangerous waters here. Roy undeniably meant a lot to Jean and Jean to Roy but it was far from love, far from familiarity. They were both broken which was what made it so perfect. But Roy was fixed now. So where were they supposed to go from there?

"What's your favorite position?" Roy asked.

"Missionary," Jean answered. "You?"

A shaky gasp left the brunette. He gripped the edge of his chair and bucked his hips. After settling back down with happy sigh he answered. "Refer to my last name."

"What is your last name?" Jean leaned back to see his face.

"Mustang."

"Havoc," Jean shared.

They smiled at each other before meeting in another kiss, Jean's hand snaking into the front of the marine's pants.

After a few days of light hearted stories and less than innocent gropes that left the sexual tension thicker than bullet proof glass Jean found himself walking into a furniture store.

"You're really going to buy one just so we can have sex?" Jean asked limping through the glass door Roy was holding for him.

"Why is that so surprising? I told you I want some action before action," Roy smiled at him.

"No leather through, I don't want my ass stuck to it."

Roy laughed. "Nothing that will burn up my knees either."

Jean looked over at the aisle of chairs. He leaned on his cane and picked up a price tag. "Three-hundred bucks for a sex chair. Not uh."

"Hold on," Roy looked towards the desk. "I think I can get us a cheap one. Just stay here and keep that face."

"What?"

"Yeah that one." Roy smiled and walked over to the man at the counter organizing papers or fabric splotches. Roy didn't really care to observe. "Hey," he greeted with his best smile and leaned forward lowering his voice. "Can you help me?"

"What are you looking for?" The man asked.

"Well a chair. But not just any chair." He leaned on one elbow to direct the man to look at Jean. "That guy over there. See, he's a friend of mine and he just got back from a tour of duty. Took a bullet to the knee, poor guy." He paused to the salesman get a good look at Jean cane and all.

"But that's not the worst of it." Roy started again. "See he's got a girl too and you can imagine how thrilled they are to be back together… Thing is with his knee like it is not a lot of thrilling is going on if you get what I mean."

"Uhm…"

"Anyway," Roy declared dramatically. "I was sort of hoping to get them a recliner sort of as a joke. So can you point me to the cheapest one you got?"

"Yeah sure," he looked a little confused but sympathetic. He stepped out from behind the counter and started for another room. Roy whistled for Jean to follow them.

"What'd you say?" Jean whispered, hobbling along.

"Just told him the predicament," Roy stated with a smile.

"Roy, why-"

"Here you go." The man stopped beside an ugly plaid chair.

"Hmm," Roy hummed. He tapped his chin. Jean looked away. "How much?"

"Two-hundred."

"Really, for what he's using it for?" Roy asked.

Jean acted like he was more interested in the rocking chairs. Embarrassed probably. Roy still didn't know him well enough to know if he was public about his relations. Clearly his parents knew but that was a different story to some men.

"Fine…" It looked like it pained him to say it. "One."

"It won't really match their apartment…" Roy argued.

Jean looked back at them. "Their?"

"Come on, man, she's been staying there a month without going home. She moved in."

"She?"

"Sneaky aren't they," the salesman laughed. "We can reupholster it."

"Perfect. Where do we draw up the details?"

"This is ridiculous," Jean muttered.

"Front desk." He waved for them to go ahead while doing something to the tag to let others know it was sold.

"What exactly did you tell him?" Jean asked bracing his cane a little harder as his morning dose started wearing off. "I might have lied a little. He looked too straight to tell the truth."

"How do you look too straight?"

Roy laughed. He leaned on the counter waiting for further instruction.

Jean collapsed into one of the chairs.

"Knee?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe we can stop for lunch somewhere so you can take another pill."

"I don't need lunch," Jean argued.

"Not supposed to take it on an empty stomach."

"What are you my mother?"

Roy laughed. "I don't think she likes me."

"Of course not you're buying her son a sex chair."

"It's not just for you," Roy pointed.

Jean laughed nodding an finding his pill bottle.

"Here are the upholstery options." He put a binder on the counter.

Roy looked back at the soldier cringing and rubbing his knee. The brunette sighed and looked at the binder. They never discussed whose apartment this sex chair was going to but Roy decided right then to have it sent to his. Jean's family would probably ask too much about it or hell his dad might even try to sit in it. The vision made Roy chuckle under his breath.

"She might be okay with this one." He pointed to a sample.

The other man nodded and started writing the number on the receipt.

"When will it be ready?"

"Next week."

"Next week?" Both Roy and Jean repeated disappointedly.

Roy shook his head to correct himself. "Is there anyway we can speed it up a bit. I'll be deployed Wednesday and I want to do a bit of ribbing before I lose the chance."

"Well, if you don't reupholster it you can have it today."

Roy looked back at Jean. Their façade was probably broken a short while ago. Roy sighed. "Okay. Fifty though. It's a damn ugly chair."

"Eighty," he reasoned.

Roy nodded in agreement and reached for his wallet.

"Do you want it delivered or will you be taking it with you?"

"Won't fit in my car…" Roy pondered.

"So we'll just need your- I mean his address," he said.

Roy smiled sheepishly and filled out the card he was handed. He handed it back with the pen and walked towards Jean. "Come on, let's get some food in you before you pass out on me again."

Jean smiled and stood up with a sound of protest. "As long as you're paying."

"I just shelled out eighty bucks so you could get laid," Roy argued as they walked back towards the glass doors.

"No, you shelled out eighty bucks so you could get laid."

"I think there's a pizza place across the street," Roy offered, opening the door.

Jean briefly caught the exchange behind him.

A second man joined the first at the counter. "What's up?"

"I think I just sold two gay men a sex chair."

"As long as they paid who cares."

Jean smiled. "Pizza's good."


	12. Shipping Out

For those who are curious, don't google B.O.C.O.D. (I'm not sure what will come up) Just don't. Review or send a message. I'll explain.

Soldiers and Sailors

Chapter twelve- Shipping Out

Jean sighed giving Roy the once over. "Can't believe I'm giving it to a colonel. Wish we had played with the suit while we could of." He tugged on the fold of Roy collar as if it was not in the right place. He really wanted to seize the damn thing and pull Roy close until his tongue was successfully down the other man's throat.

Roy smiled. "Maybe when I get home."

"I'll e-mail you," Jean proposed.

"Nothing too dirty. I've got my military career on the line," Roy warned.

Jean smiled. "I can change my screen name to 'frillybutterflies69'."

"I'm sorry but what about that is not gay?" Roy replied. "I won't be gone long anyway." He offered his arms for a hug. It was all that they could risk while Roy was in uniform. "See you in June, soldier."

Their hug ended and Roy picked up his bag, walking away towards the ramp.

Jean stepped back, sighed, and started for where his parents were waiting to take him home. His empty, lonely home.

Roy stepped on deck, the body to his right immediately stopped to salute. "At ease," Roy ordered.

He lowered his hand but stayed straight back and eyes forward. "Sir, it's good to have you back, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Roy offered a hand for the sailors clipboard. "May I see the roaster?"

"Sir, of course, sir."

Roy looked over the sheets and handed it back. "Back to work, lieutenant."

He nodded, bowed his head, and turned back to ordering some lower ranking men onboard.

Roy smiled seeing the back of a familiar head. He walked up behind the man. "Not chain smoking already, are we, Lieutenant Colonel?"

The man turned around. "Roy? Roy!" He hugged him quite unexpectedly. "And it's actually Brigadier General now."

"So I should be saluting you, is that what you're telling me?"

"Ah, I'll let it slide. Mostly because it's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you too, Hughes," Roy agreed.

Maes looked back at the railing. "Those are my girls down there. Beautiful aren't they?"

Roy looked down at the crowd waiting to watch the ship leave dock. A woman was standing with a small child balanced on her hip, waving her daughter's hand for her. "Motherhood looks good on Gracia," Roy complimented.

"You have someone down there, Roy?"

"A friend," Roy answered curtly and intentionally so. "I do believe I'll go below to my cabin before going up to the wheelhouse for briefing. You should probably do the same, Maes."

Maes sighed and waved to the dock below again.

Roy turned away from him to navigate his way through metal halls and stares to his accommodations. He didn't miss the days where accommodations meant a mattress and a locker. Now he had his own cabin and a bathroom across the way. Granted it was divided between him and five other men but they were all above the rank of captain. No idiotic pranks, hopefully.

It didn't take Hughes long to wind up on his cot while he unpacked. He shut the metal door behind him. "So you're going to tell me about this friend of yours?"

Roy kept up, ignoring him almost. "What can I tell you? We met at the therapist's office and I helped him through some surgeries."

"Yeah? You _good_ friends with this guy?"

Roy stopped with a long sigh.

Maes knew of course. They had been friends since the naval academy and though Roy never really confirmed because he was never really asked, being caught in a bar bathroom with his pants around his ankles and an unusual accessory on his knees, it never had to be said.

"Yes."

"Do you plan on being friends with him for awhile?"

"Every time I see you you have to try and pair me for life and-"

The other man put up a hand with a smirk. "What pair? You're _friends_ right?"

Roy sent him a pointed look.

Hughes sent back a quirked eyebrow. "Watch your self, Colonel."

Roy rolled his eyes. "In my mind I still outrank you."

"That's what happens when you miss a few tours," Hughes said with a smile. He stood and made to the door, though not before touching Roy's arm with a, "It is good to have you back."

"It's good to be back," Roy agreed.

"Just you wait. It'll be B.O.C.O.D. in no time," Maes assured.

Roy chuckled and shook his head. "Let's hope so."


End file.
